Better Late Than Never
by jettis0n
Summary: AU where James and Lily live to see November 1st, 1981.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first fic, inspired completely by my absolute denial of James and Lily's deaths. Yes, I know that Harry Potter kind of couldn't happen the way we all know and love without it, but what if it _had?_**

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James Potter woke up on November 1st, 1981 with the distinct feeling that he was really, very, truly supposed to be dead.

Miraculously, he was not, and he couldn't remember why.

There was a crick in his neck—it seemed that he had fallen at an odd angle at the top landing of his staircase—and there would no doubt be bruises populating his back (or perhaps his entire body) and starting a small community. His glasses were on the floor beside him, one lens cracked. He put them on and had to squint a bit before his vision focused enough to ease the pounding in his head.

Slowly, painfully, he gripped a section of the banister that had not been torn off and raised himself to his full height.

It was then that he registered the overwhelmingly acrid smell of something burning. Belatedly, he realized that it was his _house._

With renewed vigor, James scrambled down the hall and to the source of the smell, his thoughts jumbled. Why was his house on fire? Why did he pass out on the staircase? _Why was he consumed with the feeling that he was overlooking something earth-shatteringly important?_

Just before he reached the door at the end of the hall, his foot landed on something that was not completely solid or stable and rolled, resulting in his very sudden acquaintanceship with the hardwood flooring.

With a small groan, he moved to inspect the terrible thing he'd tripped on, having half a mind to scold it for interrupting his investigation on _why his house was on fire._

_Merlin, James! Only twenty-one and you're already talking to inanimate objects. I was quite certain I wouldn't have to deal with this until you were _at least_ sixty. At least by then the baby would be grown up and could place you properly in St. Mungo's, where you belong._

The voice came so suddenly and so clearly into his head that James whipped his head around, looking amongst the destruction to see if he was truly alone. Quickly, after determining he must've only heard it in his head, he picked up the object and righted himself once more. The feel of it in his grip sent a rush of adrenaline through his body.

It was his wand! _He's a wizard. _How the bloody hell could he have forgotten that?

And then, in a rush of clarity, James remembered.

He remembered playing with his son, Harry, watching the wonder on his face as he conjured up wisps of colored smoke from the tip of his wand. He remembered the fear, all consuming and terrible as his front door was blasted open and Voldemort loomed in front of him, wand raised and thirsty for bloodshed.

James remembered the scrape of words against his vocal cords as he thrusted Harry to Lily and begged, _pleaded_ for her to run and that'd he catch up later, knowing very well that his wand was discarded somewhere else and he would very likely die.

_"Lily! Take Harry and run! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"_

But it didn't matter much to him, as long as Lily and Harry made it out alive. James was certain, in that moment he stared down the wand that would deliver him to death, that he did not want to live in a world without his wife and son.

James remembered the green flash of light, the menacing utterance of a terrible phrase, and then darkness. James _remembered_ death, greeted it like an old friend who was slightly annoyed that he had shown up a bit early to the party.

And then he remembered waking up.

Snapped out of his reverie, panic gripped his heart and threatened to pull it out right out of his chest. Lily and Harry, did they get away? Did they make it? Are they alive oh God oh God please let them- please let them be alive—

James' hand, sweaty and stained, fumbled with the door knob to Harry's nursery, a room he and Lily had anxiously prepared for months, arguing over colors and where to put the crib and—

James' entire mind went blank. Empty. He did not know what he was feeling because he was unsure if there was anything to feel.

Amidst a sea of broken glass, charred furniture, and broken toys, lay Lily. Her hair was spread around her head like a bloody halo, and the front of her shirt bore a massive burn mark from spell impact. He had a matching one.

Numbly, James fell forward, his knees digging into the glass but he didn't care, because he had to see if she was dead, she could not be dead she could not be dead _Lily could not be dead_ _Merlin please don't let her be dead._

Fear and despair had replaced his blood, and James pressed two desperate fingers to Lily's neck. At the same time, he abandoned his wand and pressed an ear to her chest, desperately searching, hoping—

There it was. The faintest, most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The most precious thing he had ever felt.

Lily's pulse.

Hope reignited violently within him, and he cupped Lily's face, smearing away the soot that had gathered over her freckles from the explosion.

"Lily," James whispered, frantic and wild. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, cheeks, and lips. "Lily, love, wake up. Stay with me, Lily. I did not spend three years trying to get you to fall for my devilish charm for you to give up on me now. _You_ didn't put up with me for seven years—bloody hell, we have a child! —just to leave now." A shaky, despairing laugh left his mouth. Tears poured down his face and clogged his throat, threatening to choke him if the grief didn't do it first. "Lily, I love you. Please, Lily, I'm sorry I couldn't protect you and Harry like I said I would. I'll make it all up to you, I promise. Just come back. Lily, please just come back."

As if there were someone up in the great beyond granting all his wishes, Lily's eyes fluttered. Her pulse spiked, and a few groans left her lips.

"…James?" Lily said weakly, and it was all James could do not to pick her up right then and there and spin her around the room. In fact, it was the idea that she quite possibly had a major concussion and survived a near death experience that kept him from doing it.

"Lily?" He whispered, not daring to speak any louder. He knew that if he were to look at himself right then, he'd look like more of a mess than usual, and wanted to brace himself for the shock that would inevitably belong to Lily once she opened her eyes.

Her eyes opened then, a vibrant shock of green that had completely enraptured James since their fifth year at Hogwarts, and he was so grateful that he was seeing them again, filled with life and a fire that could only belong to Lily.

Completely overwhelmed, James pressed his lips to hers, needing to feel her, needing to know that this was real and he wasn't hallucinating. Lily responded with just as much need and desperation.

"Thank Merlin," James rested his forehead against hers, and his voice broke, "Lily, I thought I lost you." Carefully, he helped her up into a sitting position, against a wall that was not impaled with glass shards or still smoking.

Lily wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, afraid that if she let go, he would disappear. "James…I heard you scream. I saw you fall. He-who…" she trailed off, and then started again. "_Voldemort _told me you were dead, that he did it himself." Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over.

"Thankfully, I'm not. I'm alive, you're alive, and so is…"

"_Harry!"_ They said in unison, bolting to the crib that had somehow managed to remain intact. _How could he forget to check on his son?_ James thought bewilderedly to himself.

Harry lay quietly in his crib, eyes solemn and red-rimmed, swaddled in dozens of blankets. There was glass all around him but fortunately none _in_ him. As it was, Harry was perfectly unscathed with exception of a lightening-shaped scar on his forehead, and light trail of blood that led from it to the bridge of his nose.

"Harry, my baby, Mumma loves you," Lily cooed, picking him up and clutching him to her chest. Her voice was thick and she was crying, but so was James. He managed a slight grin when Harry's eyes—an exact replica of Lily's—fell on him and wrapped an arm around Lily. They were alive, and they were together, and that was all that mattered. "Daddy loves you, too."

******  
Only moments later, Lily came to the very sudden realization that they needed to go _tell_ someone what happened. She voiced this to James, whose arm stiffened around her.

"I'm quite certain everyone in the wizarding world is aware of what happened, Lil," James said. "If you hadn't noticed, our house is kind of destroyed." James looked around the room, a pained expression on his face. "I'm going to have to paint this entire sodding nursery again," he mumbled.

Lily, had she been willing to spare an arm, would have lovingly tweaked his arm for being a prick _after they had just beaten death._

"Don't you think someone would have shown up by now, if they knew?" She reasoned. "Voldemort came into our house and tried to _kill_ us, James. Everyone probably thinks we're dead. Harry's entire nursery exploded," her voice wavered, and she felt the agony of those terrible moments all over again, thinking her family was going to be killed. The green light illuminating the entire house, Lily daring to look back as she ran with Harry pressed against her chest only to see James fall, lifeless, to the ground.

Barely able to think straight, Lily had bundled Harry up in dozens of quilts, as if all the fabric could stop a killing curse. She'd whispered to him, over and over again, a mantra that was meant to calm her nerves more than Harry's.

_Harry, Harry, you are so loved. So loved. Harry, Mumma loves you. Daddy loves you. Harry, be safe. Be strong._

When the door was burst open, Lily turned, heart in her throat, completely encapsulated by fear. Her only clear thought was that Harry was going to live; _he was going to live,_ even if it was without her and James. She would make sure of it.

So she did.

"Lily?" The sound of James' worried voice brought her back to the present, and she had to blink away the film of tears distorting her vision. They were safe! They were alive! That's all that mattered.

"I'm okay," she whispered, though she wasn't, really. From the look in James' eye, he knew it too. "We need to go. We don't know what happened to Voldemort and there could be Death Eaters stalking the place and—" She couldn't finish, only pulling Harry even tighter to her chest.

"We ought to go see Dumbledore, or go to the Order headquarters," James said, and walked across the room to get his and Lily's wands. Though she knew he was only a few mere feet away, Lily thought it felt like miles.

"Do you think you can apparate?" Lily quickly assessed her body. Her pale, freckled skin was littered with bruises and cuts. Her chest ached from the impact of the spell, and now that the adrenaline was fading completely, she was quite sure her brain was preparing to leak out of her ears. On the whole, she felt like she'd gone a thousand rounds with a prizefighter.

"I have a massive headache, but I think I can do it. What about you?" Lily did not try to disguise her blatant once-over of her husband's body. For a brief second, she saw the mischievous glint return to his eye and promptly leveled him with a glare so he wouldn't say anything cheeky.

James smirked. "Besides feeling like there's a thousand pound weight on my chest and that my neck has probably gained the ability to turn three hundred and sixty degrees? Fantastic. Lovely. Peachy-keen." Lily rolled her eyes but did not say a word. Her husband was an idiot, and he was an idiot that filled her still-beating heart with an immense amount of love.

"So where are we headed, then?" James stuck out his elbow and Lily took it, keeping a firm arm cradling Harry. Her heart beat was erratic.

"HQ? St. Mungo's? Dumbledore is surely to be at HQ but I have no idea what this scar on Harry's forehead means, and neither of us are exactly in tip-top shape."

James' brow furrowed. "I think HQ would be our best bet. Doesn't Pomfrey hang around every once in a while? Maybe we'll catch her."

With a sound that was distinctly reminiscent of a car backfiring, all three Potters disappeared into thin air.

****  
They were received in HQ by a host of surprised faces. It was a rather small group present; weary faces pulled down with grief sipping on drinks in front of the fireplace. The atmosphere was odd; one of relieved celebration and immense grief, of an enemy vanquished at the expense of the innocent. Lily shivered and James knew, despite it all, she felt the noticeable absence of the McKinnons and the Prewett brothers. Their deaths were so recent that the sight of their empty chairs still shocked every member of the Order.

"James? Lily?" Remus spoke first, his face so pale that he resembled a ghost. "They said you had died—your house is destroyed, and when they went to look for you, you weren't there—"

"Yeah, about the death thing," James began, dealing with the situation the only way he really knew how. Make light of it. "_We_ thought we were dead, too. Quite torn up about it, really. Marvelously, we're not, and I'd rather not dwell on how we managed to do it because I'm perhaps a little bit afraid we'll jinx it." He gave a winning smile, one that worked fantastically during his days in Hogwarts when he had to charm his way out of detentions for a prank gone wrong. Unless, of course, it was McGonagall giving the detentions. The woman was a fortress. "Anyone happen to know where Dumbledore is?"

After a shocked beat of silence, Remus rose from his chair and, to James' surprise, pointed a wand at them. Almost immediately James pulled his wand out of his pocket to retaliate, hurt radiating through his body. Lily hoisted Harry further up on her hip and faced him away, angling her body so she could raise her wand and protect Harry from any errant spells. James, as an unconscious reaction, angled his own body to better protect his family. He'd already failed them once, and he wasn't going to do it again.

"What's your nickname for me?" Remus snarled, a look of abject pain in his eyes.

James narrowed his eyes. "Moony, coined fifth year due to the belated discovery of a solution to your _furry little problem._"

Remus' posture became a little less stooped, but he redirected his wand toward Lily, who stared him down like she'd rather tear the world apart than let something happen to her family again. James felt his body go alight with the sudden desire to kiss her in that moment, but knew she'd probably hex him to his grave if he did.

"What did you say to me when Sirius was writing his best man speech?"

A flicker of amusement ghosted over Lily's face. A corner of her mouth turned up. "I said, 'Oh, Merlin's beard, Remus, please don't let him embarrass himself, James, or worse, _me.'"_

Harry giggled in her arms, and Lily's attention was instantly diverted. Remus lowered his wand and all the tension in the room dissipated.

Remus smiled weakly. "Hope you'll forgive me for that. I just…couldn't really believe you had survived. All of you."

The room, previously filled with Order members stunned to silence, came back to life. There were cheers, shouts, felicitations and worried questions. Dedalus Diggle was the loudest of them all, shooting fireworks from the tip of his wand and downing several shots of fire whiskey.

Between James and Lily, Harry giggled some more and clapped his hands at the display.

"Is Dumbledore here?" James asked Remus again, eyes searching each and every battle-worn face for a man with half-moon glasses. Remus stepped closer to them, guiding them to a different room. "There are a few things I need to tell you before you see Dumbledore. Yes, he's here, and I'm sure you have a lot to tell him, but I need to tell you this one thing first."

James knew worry when he heard it, and Remus was most definitely worried. But he was worried for someone else.

"What is it, Remus?" Lily asked, and dread filled James' stomach.

"Sirius is being sent to Azkaban." All the air was sucked out of the room. Lily gasped, but James could hardly make a sound.

"_What the bloody hell for?_" Lily's voice rose twelve octaves, and Remus winced, his eyes glancing at them all but falling on none.

James was a thousand feet underwater. His parents had died only a few years ago, and Sirius was the only member of that life he had left. Sirius could not be going to Azkaban. He _needed_ Sirius. He was the godfather to his child!

"What do you bloody mean, what for?" Remus was suddenly incensed. "He's your Secret Keeper and he betrayed you to Voldemort! You three almost died because of Sirius!" Lily began to interrupt but Remus continued on, driven. "Peter confronted him in Godric's Hollow and Sirius killed him! He left nothing but a pinky finger, along with twelve other muggles. Casted a curse so strong you could see the piping beneath the pavement. The Aurors had to obliviate half the town so it wouldn't make it to the muggle newspapers."

Lily took one glance at James' stricken face and spoke, her voice deadly calm. "Remus, Sirius was not our Secret Keeper." Her voice took on a new tone then, as if she were coming to realize something. Neither James or Lily thought much on how Voldemort knew where to find them, only that he did, and was now nowhere to be found. "Peter was. Sirius suggested it because he thought everyone would assume it was him, and leave Peter alone. We thought Peter could be trusted."

James came back to life with murder in his eyes. "Obviously," he said, straining to remain calm, "we were mistaken." James turned to look at Lily, not wanting to leave her and Harry but knowing he needed to do something to save Sirius. They exchanged silent look, and though they were both equally terrified, Lily nodded her assent.

"Peter," Remus muttered in complete disbelief. James wasn't sure how much more stress he could take. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure it was going to give out on him at any minute.

"What do we do now?" James demanded. "Peter could have been cavorting with Voldemort for months for all we know, divulging every secret we had. How do we know Voldemort isn't planning something right now?"

"The McKinnons," Lily whispered. "Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Peter must have told the Death Eaters where they were during their patrol nights. He's the reason they're dead."

James' anger was going to eat him alive.

"Voldemort is dead."

They all spun to face the new voice in the room. It was calm and serene, vaguely and perpetually mischievous. It also belonged to a man with a long white beard, a crooked nose, and glinting, half moon glasses.

"Dumbledore!" James exclaimed, feeling that it was not the time to beat around the bush. "What do you mean, Voldemort's dead?" How much had they missed?

The promise of a smile ghosted Dumbledore's face. "Voldemort is dead, because your son killed him." Any one of them could have a dropped a wand and the sound would have gone unnoticed.

James nearly snorted. "Harry's barely a year old! He can hardly string a sentence together, nevertheless _kill Voldemort_."

"James!" Lily scolded, but she was too surprised herself to put any severity behind it. Their son? One year old Harry Potter, killed Voldemort?

"Do not underestimate the power of love, James. You and Lily sacrificed yourselves last night, in the way only a true sacrifice can be done." He paused a bit, taking in their reactions before he continued. James could honestly not imagine was his looked like. "You sacrificed yourselves for Harry with no intention of trying to save yourselves in the process. By doing that, you tapped into a very old magic, a very rare kind of spell that Voldemort himself had no hope to ever master."

"What was it?"

"Your love created a shield, and when Voldemort aimed to kill Harry, his spell rebounded and Voldemort himself was destroyed instead. It's why Harry emerged completely unscathed with exception of that scar on his forehead. Quite remarkable, really."

Lily flushed. "But how did _we_ survive? Shouldn't the sacrifice have only worked if we had really died?"

If Dumbledore was ruffled by her question, he did not show it. Instead, his gaze slid to beyond them, at the doorway veiled by shadow.

"You can come in now," Dumbledore said, and James wasn't sure if what he heard in his voice was disgust or contempt. However, he suddenly found he didn't really care.

It was because Severus Snape had just entered the room._  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**New chapter! It's a little bit shorter than the last one, but I felt this was a more appropriate place to end. I spent most of my day rereading The Sorcerer's Stone to make sure of what I needed to hit and what would be changed if Harry still had James and Lily. It was exhausting. Plus, I reread the end of The Deathly Hallows (particularly The Prince's Tale chapter) to make sure I got some fickle Pensieve details right. So much googling and rereading. So much. Enjoy the chapter!**

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James thought, personally, that he should be commended for his ability to _not_ draw his wand and hex Snape to the deepest pit in hell. What the bloody hell was Dumbledore thinking, bringing a _Death Eater_ into Order HQ? Was he trying to get them all killed?

James could only imagine what kind of target he and his family had on their backs now that they're known for killing Voldemort. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

"What are _you _doing here?" James spat, eyes narrowed into slits. He gripped his wand in his pocket.

Snape, on the other side of the room, had the gall to refuse eye contact with James. His eyes were instead focused solely on Lily, the oily black holes sunken into his face shimmered faintly with relief. His hair was matted grossly against waxen cheeks, and he seemed to be sweating profusely. His hand did not even twitch toward his wand.

"Answer the question," Lily said lowly, her eyes focused on the wall above his head. Her hand reached out to grip James', twining their fingers together.

"I'm here because Dumbledore invited me," Snape replied, a flicker of something indescribable passing across his gaunt face.

"I believe invited is a strong word for it, Severus." Dumbledore's disdain was palpable. "Please put your wand away, James. Now is not the time for violence when there is so much to celebrate."

James grudgingly obliged, but pulled Lily and Harry closer to him. He knew Lily would give him hell for making her out to be weak later, but he needed to feel as if he were doing _something._

"Why is he here?" James asked again, directing the question toward Dumbledore. "I believe the best way to explain this situation is to _show, _rather than tell," Dumbledore said evasively, turning and reaching for something in a cupboard. "Am I wrong to assume that you and Lily are familiar with a Pensieve, James?" Dumbledore lithely pulled out a metal dish from a stone basin, guiding it to hover in the center of the room.

"We've both used one once or twice," Lily said, peering curiously into the dish. It was filled with shimmering liquid that appeared to be something a bit denser than water, silvery strands of memory floating and intertwining before separating again. James' only experience with a Pensieve was during Christmas break in his sixth year, where his parents disagreed on _who_ knocked over the tree their first Christmas together (it was his father, Charlus,) and had forced James to watch their respective memories of it and decide who was right. Thinking back on it, he realized it was a rather negative experience with a Pensieve. He had refused to use one since.

"Severus, the bottle, please." Snape looked reluctant, but did as he was told. James wondered if it was possible for a person to sweat so much.

Snape handed over a bottle filled with a shimmery silver liquid and Dumbledore uncorked it, tilting it slightly and watching the oddly vaporous solution fall into the Pensieve. When they hit, the bright colors turned black, tainted and swirling angrily around other happy memories.

"Who would like to go first?" Dumbledore asked. Lily beat James to his answer.

"I will," she said, her expression inscrutable. She handed Harry over to James and stepped up to the dish.

To be quite honest, Lily wasn't sure if she actually wanted to delve deep into Severus' memories. It had taken her too long to make peace with the path he was heading down, and to reconcile the boy she knew with the person in front of her—the one who purposely inflicted pain on those he perceived as different for pure enjoyment—was far too difficult. She had resigned herself to cutting Severus completely out of her life, especially now that she had a child, and she was _at peace _with that. Despite a life full of turmoil and fear and near-death experiences, Lily had found exactly what she needed.

She had the extremely terrible feeling in her stomach that Severus' memories were going to ruin it all. She'd been good at potions and charms for a reason—life was easier when all your boxes were checked.

Taking a deep breath, Lily glanced at James. He gave her a quick wink and a reassuring smile, taking Harry's tiny little fist and waving it at her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

Then she dove in.

Lily was hit first by an insanely familiar memory, except from a completely different perspective. She was standing beside a child Severus and watching herself and Petunia on a swing set.

"_Lily don't do it!"_ The younger version of Petunia had shouted to Lily. Lily could almost feel it, the sunlight washing over her in that memory, and watched the younger version of her let go of the swing and float to the ground, much slower than she should have. Lily remembered that day with painful clarity. She remembered every single instance of magic and Petunia because they never coalesced.

The memory shifted then, and she was standing beside Severus as he watched her get Sorted. From her own perspective, she remembered her galloping heartbeat, her mind torn between wanting to be placed in Slytherin with Severus and wanting to know, genuinely, where she belonged. Lily remembered thinking this would be the only time she genuinely knew where she belonged.

"_Gryffindor!"_ The Sorting Hat shouted, and though Lily remembered her own joy, she _felt_ Severus' devastation.

The scene switched again, to Dumbledore's office. Severus didn't look much different than he did now, and Lily realized with a pang in her chest that this must've only been weeks ago.

"The Dark Lord…. He thinks… he thinks the prophecy…he thinks it means Lily… and I told it to him… my fault…" Severus choked out, tears trailing down his sallow cheeks. He was on his knees before Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore looked down on him, disdainful. "I believe the prophecy called for a boy, Severus, not Lily Evans."

"Her son!" Severus exploded, and Lily flinched backward. "He wants the boy… he's going to kill them all!"

"So why don't you simply ask Voldemort, if he trusts you as you say he does, to spare her in exchange for her husband and the boy?"

Rage flamed in Lily so absolutely that it felt as if tongues of fire were licking the blood in her veins, drying it up, replacing it with something much, much, more terrible. Kill James and Harry and leave her alive? And as some kind of _plaything for Severus?_ Over her dead body. Over _his dead body._

"I did…I did ask…" Lily wished she could actively become part of the memory and pummel Severus into a pulp. It was the least she could do without her wand.

"You disgust me," Dumbledore said, and turned away. It was the worst kind of snub she could imagine coming from him, and she was overjoyed to see that Severus was receiving it.

"Please… please protect her… protect them all, I don't care… just make sure she lives!" Lily could not bear to look at Severus' face.

"How do I know that what you say is true, Severus? How do I know that you have truly come to my side?" Shadow covered Dumbledore's eyes, hiding whatever intentions he may have had.

Severus stood up then, his eyes glinting fiercely. He bellowed out "_Expecto Patronum!"_ and what Lily saw was the last thing she possibly expected.

Sprouting from the tip of Severus' wand was a graceful doe, prancing around the room and shedding light in every shadow.

It was a Patronus identical to her own.

Every thought in Lily's head was scrambled. Time froze so intensely she could have sworn that she saw it crystallizing before her. Identical Patronuses meant one thing… could _only_ mean one thing…

"After all this time?" Dumbledore asked, stealing the words from Lily's mouth and rephrasing them, slightly stricken with awe.

Severus gritted his yellowing teeth. "Always."

The scene changed again and Lily wasn't ready for it. She saw Severus nervously looking over his shoulder, two wands in his hands. A musty calendar on a desk beside him proclaimed the date to be October 31st, 1981.

_This was only last night!_

One wand she recognized to be Severus', but the other was unfamiliar. Lily felt the anxiety and nervousness though she knew that she had nothing to fear. This wasn't happening to her. She wasn't there.

Lily watched as Severus performed some kind of enchantment, the words hushed and unintelligible, over the foreign wand. White sparks flew out of the end, and she saw Severus take it as some kind of success.

Then she watched Severus hand the wand over to Voldemort.

When she was released from the Pensieve, the staggering weight of what she had just seen collapsed her to the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three is here! Updates may be a little slower now, because school has started back up again and I have annoying stuff like SATs and finals and ****_homework_**** to worry over. Plus Driver's Ed! Which is mildly terrifying. Anyway, the next chapter may or may not explore the curious case that is Sirius Black and his imprisonment. I'm hoping to get it up by next week. Thanks for the reviews and please don't hesitate to leave any more! **

* * *

It was an incredibly long few minutes before Lily managed to stand up again, refusing help from an extremely harried-looking James, who seemed torn between putting Harry down (which he would probably never do ever, ever again) and helping Lily up to the best of his ability.

Instead, Remus and James hovered over her while she stood, taking Harry into her arms and stroking his head. He was wailing, nearly inconsolable, and Lily couldn't help but think that she'd much rather him wailing than silent and dead.

"Lily? What did you see? Are you alright?" James' hands were cupping her face and there was a desperate, searching look in his eye.

She pulled James' face down so his forehead was resting against hers, Harry nestled between them. They were a family. They survived death, and they will survive this. She pressed a kiss, short and sweet, to his lips.

"I love you, you know that, right? I love you more than anything in the world. Don't forget that." Lily knew she was confusing him, but he took it completely in stride. His mouth turned up in a devilish smile.

"Well I would _hope_ so, considering we're _married_ and have a _child_ and all." She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face and kissed him once more, steeling herself for the next thing she had to do.

"Take the baby," she whispered, and James took Harry into his arms once more, though it only served to raise the volume of his wailing. In the corner of her eye, she saw Remus back out of the room, sensing it was no longer his place to be present. She shot him a weak smile, which he returned with a sympathetic nod of his head.

Taking a deep breath, Lily straightened up to her full height.

"Severus," she said lowly, this time not avoiding his eyes. She stared directly into them; saw every emotion he tried so desperately to hide but couldn't. Not from her. "What did you do to Voldemort's wand?"

If possible, Severus' face seemed to pale ever further. It was quite likely that a piece of chalk could've been seen as having a rather nice tan compared to Severus. Lily's stomach flip-flopped. It had to have been a good thing, what Severus did to the wand; she tried to reason with herself. She was still alive, wasn't she? She still couldn't shake the notion that this might all be one really long, terrifying dream.

"I created a curse," he said slowly, as if every word pained him, a thousand pinpricks in his skin. Now, more than ever, Lily was aware of the Dark Mark tattoo menacingly creeping out of his shirtsleeve. Was it moving? "That reduced the effects of spells cast by the afflicted wand. I couldn't make it permanent; it was nearly impossible to even get a hold of the Dark Lord's—" he winced. "You-Know-Who's wand in the first place. From what I had practiced on different wands, it worked enough to reduce the effects of maybe two or three spells. I was never certain."

Lily was reeling. A glance at James showed him to be deeply conflicted, distractedly running fingers through Harry's sparse hair, as if it could replace his own.

Severus seemed to take this as permission to continue. "So when he cast the Killing Curse, it must've been reduced to a very powerful Stun. Just enough to knock someone out, but not to—" Hesitation. "Kill them. And obviously," he chose to draw out these next few words, like he was both pained and relieved to say them. "It must have worked twice."

"Just twice?" James snapped.

"Yes, _twice._ Don't you listen, Potter?" Severus sneered. "A Stunning spell powerful enough to knock someone out wouldn't be enough to destroy You-Know-Who once it rebounded. It wouldn't have caused that caliber of damage to You-Know-Who or your home. No, the spell that was aimed at your son was more than adequate to kill him. The shield was pure coincidence."

Lily was enraged. She could have spit enough fire to frighten a Hungarian Horntail. "Pure _coincidence?_ You're calling my sacrifice for my son _coincidence?_ He could have died, Severus!" Her words hit the walls and nearly pulverized them with the force of her hate.

"I know that!" He exploded. "And you could have, too! If I hadn't cursed You-Know-Who's wand—"

"Why won't you say Voldemort's name, Snape? Are you afraid?" James spit, a number of vitriolic insults sitting at the tip of his tongue and begging to be let loose. His patience was wearing thin.

Severus' face darkened. "There are plenty of things to be afraid of in this world, Potter. It would benefit you to learn what they are."

"Why did you do it? Why curse Voldemort's wand?" Lily demanded. She needed to hear him say it. "What would saving me and my family do for you? You hate James, and you hate the fact that we have a child."

"He doesn't deserve you—"

"Oh, and you _do?_ Please explain that logic to me, Severus, because I am incapable of understanding."

Severus, for the briefest of moments, looked vulnerable. "You know why I did it, Lily."

"Do I, Severus? Do I really know? Aren't I just another _filthy mudblood _to you? I imagine that you've killed enough to know by now. Tell me why you did it, Severus."

"You _know_—"

"Say it out loud!" She shrieked. Harry started wailing again, and she felt a fissure spread through her heart like a spider web.

"It's because I love you!" Severus was seething, the only real emotion Lily had seen from him in years flaring up in his dark eyes. It was like setting fire to an oil spill. "You saw the memory, Lily. You know what my Patronus looks like. I've loved you since we were children and I'll _always_ love you—" He didn't get to finish because James had let go of the last bit of his patience and hissed "_Stupefy!" _so vehemently that no one was sure if it was wandless magic or just the force of James' anger that knocked Severus unconscious.

Severus collapsed in a heap to the floor. The thump of his body against the dark, warped wood was followed by resounding silence.

"Snape loves you," James said lowly, and Lily turned to face him. His face was red and contorted with anger, chest heaving with labored breaths. "Snape _loves_ you. He shouldn't _get_ to love you, he shouldn't get to even _begin_ to understand what it might be like to love someone, especially you, not when you he treated you so horribly and he's _killed_ people, Lily, he's terrible and he doesn't deserve to call his sick obsession with you _love_, not when I love you—" He stopped himself almost immediately as another, more pressing question came to mind. "What does his Patronus look like?"

"James—"

"Tell me, Lily!"

Angry tears pricked at her eyes but she went closer, wrapped her arms around him even as he was trembling with rage and attempting to keep Harry calm amidst all the confusion.

"His Patronus is a doe. He showed it to Dumbledore a few weeks ago to prove he had really switched sides." A sour taste spread through Lily's mouth. "You know what they say about identical Patronuses, James." She made him look at her, kept his eyes focused slowly on hers. "Don't think this changes anything, James. I love _you._ Severus' part in my life was finished fifth year. I'll never forget what he did for us, but it doesn't change how I feel about you." Lily smirked a little bit. "Besides, I'm rather fond of companion Patronuses. More true to us, I think. The world needs to know that I'm my own bloody person."

She almost let out a whoop of victory when she saw the hint of a smile on his face. The redness receded from his face and the trembling stopped.

"Well, that does make me feel a tad bit less murderous."

"You kept it together for a long time. I think you may have broken your record. I'm so proud." The smile was wider this time.

They were wrapped up completely in their own little world when Dumbledore spoke once more. "Severus will be teaching this next coming school year." Lily had forgotten he was there.

"Snape? A teacher?" James was incredulous. More than incredulous, even. Completely, wholly, one hundred percent baffled. He would have sooner expected McGonagall to join the Quidditch team as Seeker before he thought Severus Snape would be a _teacher._

Dumbledore seemed amused by James' reaction. "Yes. While he has proven himself to be loyal to our cause, I would feel more at ease if he were to be in the castle with me at all times."

"What will he be teaching?" James asked, and though he wanted to argue that he didn't want Snape becoming a teacher at Hogwarts, a school his own son would attend, he knew better than to fight Dumbledore's logic.

Lily had a feeling that she already knew the answer to this question.

"Professor Slughorn has recently made it known that he wishes to retire at the end of term. Since Severus has demonstrated proficiency in Potions in the past, he will be taking up the position." Dumbledore's face darkened for a moment. "While he requested to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I thought it best that he stick with Potions. We all know about his… affinity for Dark Spell Theory."

_It was his affinity for Dark Spell Theory that saved our lives,_ Lily thought.

"Just as well, I thought you both should know that I'm disbanding the Order." He silenced their protests with a simple wave of his hand. "Voldemort is no longer an imminent threat to us or anyone else. For the time being. The Ministry is capable of handling the remaining Death Eaters and their trials. The risks of running this organization now far outweigh the benefits."

"For the time being?" Lily questioned. "You said Voldemort was dead?"

Dumbledore gave a sad little smile. "I do not believe that we have seen the last of Voldemort, my dear girl. His connections span the globe. For now we are safe, and we will be for a good while. It is imperative that we all make do with that." They fell into a brief silence; even Harry fussed a bit less, occupying himself with blowing bubbles with his mouth.

"Now, I believe there is a situation involving Sirius Black and an unfortunate sentence to Azkaban."

James, quite frankly, did not believe it. Sirius was hotheaded—you only had to be in a room with him for a few minutes to know that—but he wasn't capable of cold-blooded _murder._ He sure as hell didn't deserve to be sentenced to bloody Azkaban!

Dumbledore had sat the three of them down and explained the situation. The only people who had known about the Secret Keeper switch had been James, Lily, Sirius, and Peter. No one else, not even Dumbledore.

When the news got out that they'd been killed? It was clear that there had been a betrayal. Everyone assumed it was Sirius, because who else could have told Voldemort where they were staying and break the Fidelius charm?

Just as Remus had said, Peter and Sirius had faced off in Godric's Hollow. It didn't take James very long to put the pieces together, but Lily had done it almost instantaneously.

Peter framed Sirius and took down twelve innocent Muggles in the process. He cut off his own finger and turned into his Animagus form and disappeared into thin air. The public considered him dead, hailed him as a hero, even. All the while, Sirius was immediately sentenced and was en route to lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban.

James thought he would be sick. Lily shed silent tears, burying her face into his shoulder and dampening his shirt. Right then, James had made a decision.

He was going to save Sirius, he was going to make sure Lily and Harry were safe while he did it, and most importantly, he was going to find Peter Pettigrew and make the rat wish he had never been born.


	4. Chapter 4

**New chapters are great! Just a warning: this one is a little intense. Particularly for Sirius. It deals heavily with his grief and loss, and I didn't want to really gloss over that. Despite it all, I really hope you all like it! Please review and tell me your thoughts!**

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_November 1__st__, 1981_

Sirius woke up that morning with a sense of foreboding weighing down on his chest. He had lain in bed for a few very long moments; sun peeking through the faded curtains and patterning him in stripes. He couldn't remember how to breathe.

Eventually, when his lungs were taking in air as they were supposed to, he wrenched himself out of bed. He was all out of sorts. His thoughts were jumbled, his head pulsed with a headache, he couldn't quite tell his left from his right, and the Rememberall sitting on his dresser—a gag gift from James, though it turned out to be rather useful—was clouded.

His eyes fell on the shattered bottle of Firewhiskey lying in a puddle a few feet away, and realized that he was probably hung over. He was most nights now, ever since the McKinnons were killed.

He didn't want to think her name, but it invaded his fractured thoughts anyway, like it always did, no matter how hard he tried.

_Marlene._

Salty tears dripped down his face and he angrily wiped them away with the rumpled comforter on his bed. A little known fact was that Sirius Black was a sad, angry drunk.

Frustrated, he grabbed his wand from his nightstand and held it to his temple, muttering a few Sobering charms. The fuzziness faded, but the anger and sadness didn't.

No one knew how hard he was taking Marlene McKinnon's death. He'd only told James after a pretty tough binge one night, but he loved her. He loved her so goddamn much and he thought he'd finally found _her_, the one that would make him all gushy and as intolerable as James was seventh year when he finally got with Lily. Marlene could've been it for him.

Now he'd never know.

It didn't help, of course, that her death had come so shortly after Regulus'. Sirius was never much of a brother to Reg, there would never come a time where he wouldn't regret that, but he cared about it. He felt so fucking guilty that he hadn't helped him more, _been there_ for him more instead of high-tailing it from Black Manor and becoming a permanent resident at the Potter Estate. Maybe… if he had stayed… he could've convinced Reg not to go down that path. He could've convinced him to get out from under their parents' fucking humongous shadow before it ate him alive.

He could've been there to help even when, despite it all, Regulus decided to turn coats and leave Voldemort once and for all.

But he wasn't. Regulus was all alone when he decided to turn against Voldemort, and it had cost him his life.

Regulus. Marlene. The Prewett Brothers. He wasn't sure how much more death he could take before it destroyed him.

He'd never gotten a chance to tell all this to James because James had his own life to worry about. Voldemort was targeting his son. His entire family. Sirius was lucky if he even saw old Prongsie on a full moon.

After a while, Sirius pulled on some (barely) clean clothes and shoes, shoving his wand in his pocket. Maybe he'd go bother Wormtail for a little bit. Go bring him along to James' or the Three Broomsticks and they'd have a pint or three. Who the hell cared if it was still morning? There was a Muggle saying that it was five o'clock somewhere, and he firmly believed in it.

With a pop, he Apparated to Peter's meager flat in a Muggle town not far from Godric's Hollow. All the Marauders lived in the vicinity. It had been convenient when James and Lily wanted a night for themselves and needed a babysitter. Usually, all three of them would come at the same time and keep Harry company, playing silly games and teaching him words that Lily would smack them for later.

James and Lily never left the house for more than a few hours, and when they'd gone under the Fidelius charm, not at all. The last bit of correspondence he had from them was a letter Lily sent about Harry's birthday gift. He chuckled when he read that Harry had nearly killed the cat with his little broom. From the sound of it, Harry was going to make a fine Quidditch player some day. He might even put James to shame. It would do the bastard good to be one-upped by someone. And the added bonus of it being his own son! He couldn't wait for the day. It'd be like Christmas.

"Wormy!" Sirius hollered. His voice echoed and swirled the dust motes in the air. "Wormtail! Get your fat arse out of bed and come to the pub with me!" It was only when he didn't hear annoyed groaning from the bedroom that he realized something was wrong.

"Peter, you prat, wake up!" Sirius yelled again, slightly more than a note of panic seeping into his voice. He kicked open the bedroom door and saw the bed was perfectly made up. It didn't even look slept in. In fact, the entire room looked like it had never even seen a tenant.

Sirius' stomach dropped to his feet. No. No no no no no. Peter was not… could not…

It was like he had taken a thousand bludgers to the head.

_Peter was the spy._

He had suspected Remus… alienated Remus… nearly ruined a friendship because of his stupid _stupid_ paranoia and it wasn't even the right person!

Sirius couldn't bring himself to move. The wood flooring could have transformed into roots, wrapping around his legs and pulling him into hell for all he cared. He had one, bone chilling thought.

_He needed to go tell James and Lily._

The sense of foreboding that had threatened to crush him earlier in the morning came back full force. He couldn't fathom the power of his emotions in that second because he _needed to go tell James and Lily, they needed to take Harry and get out get out get out get out _

He Apparated to Godric's Hollow and splinched himself on the way. A solid chunk of his calf was missing but he didn't give a bloody fuck, he didn't fucking care, he needed to find Lily and James—

Sirius saw the smoke floating into the sky and fell to his knees. A few houses. He just needed to make it past a few more houses and then he'd know, maybe it was a neighbor? Bathilda Bagshot left her oven on, maybe?

The gravel dug into his skin and cut at him but Sirius was numb to it all. He felt the same way he did when he got plastered one night and Lily had knocked him upside the head for being reckless and administered one too many Sobering charms— _Lily._

Sirius saw the house. Debris littered the grass all around the explosion sight. His heart—that stone cold heart of his, shattered—caught in his throat and he wished he had choked on it in that second because he could not deal with the way he was feeling. Hysteria clawed at him like an angry monster.

The explosion was centered in Harry's nursery. Sirius' vision blurred.

Stumbling, Sirius walked through the front door, knocked right off its hinges. Wood was splintered all over the entrance. He kept walking.

He stared at his feet as he walked up the staircase, the pain from his injury rolling through him over and over and he thought for one, desperate moment, that he'd rather a Dementor's Kiss than this. He'd rather have no soul than feel like this.

He paused absolutely when his foot hit another. A foot that was not his. A foot that was completely limp and attached to a completely limp, cold, dead body.

Sirius found himself looking at the dead body of his best friend. His brother. The only true family he had left.

James had died with his eyes open, sprawled at a terrible angle on the staircase. The banister around him was destroyed; his glasses had been flung halfway down the hall, probably from spell impact.

A sob wracked through his body and Sirius doubled over. With two bloody fingers, he shut James Potter's eyes forever.

As if to torture himself further, Sirius kept walking. Down the hall, to the other door that was not so much a door as it was a doorframe. He went in only two steps before he stopped.

Lily had, mercifully, died with her eyes shut. He didn't know if he had the strength to shut hers, too. He didn't want to leave his blood when the physical evidence of his failure was already everywhere he looked.

Sirius lifted his grey eyes to the crib. There was a baby in it, but the baby wasn't moving. Harry was completely still in that crib, too still for a baby that was supposed to be alive.

The only answer, of course, was that he wasn't. None of them were.

The Potters were dead, and it was Sirius' fault.

He ran out of the house, banging against things and leaving them in more of a state than they already were. Collapsing onto the pavement outside, he dry-heaved, over and over until his throat hurt and his chest burned.

Then, he saw it. A flash of brown scurrying down the street in the corner of his vision. He almost didn't believe it.

Sirius ripped his wand from his pocket and aimed it at the scurrying thing, the _rat,_ and screamed louder than he ever thought possible. The rat seemed to stumble for a moment, before it swelled in size. A head seemed to shoot straight through the rat's mouth, the rest of the body tumbling forward in a gross display.

"_Pettigrew!"_ Sirius shrieked, moving forward so fast that his wand was pressed against his best friend's throat. "They _trusted you!_ And you _betrayed them!" _Sirius didn't know how he hadn't suspected Peter before this very moment. The signs were all there—Peter had aged a thousand years because of the stress. He used to be strong and healthy-looking, broad shouldered with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Now, his once-thick hair was sparse at the top. His skin was sallow and had a sickly sheen in the light. His eyes seemed to morph between confidence and the watery, beady eyes he possessed in Animagus for. In _rat _form.

"I did what I needed to do to survive!" Peter squeaked back, his Adam's apple bobbing under the pressure of the wand. Sirius saw red. He saw a whole fucking sunset.

"They would have died for you," Sirius said lowly, disgust and hatred mixing together so completely they could not be separated. "They would have protected you until their very last breath." Muggles from the surrounding houses were looking out of their windows, curtains held open with fear mingled curiosity. Some were out in their front yards. They were drawing too much attention but Sirius couldn't bring himself to care.

Peter let out a strangled sob, his clothes dingy and eyes bloodshot. He was a shell of himself. There was nothing he could say. Nothing would make this better.

Sirius was so wrapped up in his own rage that he didn't see the knife.

The metal was dull and didn't catch the light very well, but it didn't matter because Peter used it to cut off his pinky finger.

Faster than Sirius ever thought him capable of, Peter had thrown Sirius back and screamed for the entire street and possibly the world to hear, _"SIRIUS BLACK GAVE JAMES AND LILY POTTER UP TO VOLDEMORT. SIRIUS BLACK KILLED THE POTTERS!"_

Sirius aimed his wand and spit so many curses they all meshed together he didn't know what he was saying.

Then three things happened:

Aurors from the Ministry Apparated on to the scene.

Peter Pettigrew cast a curse so strong that everything exploded all at once. The pavement was ripped up to reveal the pipes beneath it.

Sirius Black passed out.

(&)(&)(&)

The only course of action necessary to save Sirius from impending doom, Lily had said, was to simply go to the Ministry and properly explain the situation. Sirius wasn't the Secret Keeper, and he did not kill twelve people. Remus failed to see the simplicity in that.

James rather fancied the idea of punching the Minister for Magic repeatedly in the face until she agreed to let Sirius go. (The truth was, Millicent Bagnold was a lovely woman. She had done everything to the best of her ability during the war, and still was. James was more than a little stressed.)

That was exactly why, after a brief family check-up with the Healers at St. Mungo's, Remus went to the Ministry with Lily instead of James, who stayed back at HQ with Harry. He'd watched them battle it out, communicating only in sighs, raised eye brows, and head tilts, because Harry was finally, miraculously, asleep.

They left via Floo, which turned Remus' stomach over. Of all the methods of magic transportation, Floo was his least favorite. Any kind of magic transportation had an odd effect on him, really. Sometimes he wondered if it was some kind of side effect of his "furry little problem" and then chose not to dwell on it much longer.

Remus stumbled when they landed in the Ministry, and Lily gripped his arm to help steady him. It was oddly desolate. Lily said in a soft whisper, as if she was afraid she would disturb something, that she would have thought that the defeat of Voldemort, however temporary it might be, would have been cause for massive celebration.

Not a soul was present. To tell the truth, Remus was a little glad for it. More than just a few people knew his secret now and he didn't much like seeing revulsion destroy a person's features, especially when it was in response to him.

They entered the elevator and Remus pressed the button, placing a firm hand on one of the handles above his head. Lily tapped her nails nervously against the railing.

Remus was hit all over again with the beautiful fact that they were alive. James, Lily, and Harry were all _alive._ In the course of only a few hours, he had lost all of his friends and then got them back. Fear and grief had become part of his very being, as much a part of him as the wolf. He kept wondering if it was all a dream and that he'd drunk himself into a stupor (like he had planned when he realized that the next full moon was in ten days and he would be facing it completely alone). Remus was waiting to wake up.

The elevator doors dinged and opened, revealing the wide lay out of the Minister for Magic's floor. None of the usual security measures were in place. Remus found it rather disconcerting that he and Lily were able to walk right up to Millicent Bagnold's office and knock on the door.

Remus had raised his fist to knock, but the door opened before he was able. A weary voice drifted to his ears, coming from a body draped over a small couch in exhaustion.

"If you're another one come to tell me about the breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy, I will tell you exactly what I told everyone else: I reserve our inalienable right to party. A war's just been won, if you haven't quite noticed."

Remus glanced at Lily to take in her reaction, and partly just remind himself that she was there and alive enough to have a reaction in the first place. She looked rather stunned for only a fraction of a second. Perhaps less.

"Actually, Minister, I've come to speak to you about Sirius Black." Millicent jumped upright, her back facing her audience.

"_Sirius Black?_ Haven't you heard of celebrating? Why worry about him when Voldemort's dead? He's just lolling about in one of the interrogation rooms. All day we've been trying to get the bastard to spill the location of the Potter house so we can retrieve their bodies. Did you know Veritaserum doesn't work on Secret Keepers? You'd think a man who killed twelve Muggles and ratted his closest friends out to Voldemort wouldn't mind—" She turned around and abruptly stopped. "Oh Merlin, I'm seeing things again, aren't I?"

Lily smiled shyly, and Remus would have laughed if Sirius' life wasn't hanging in the balance.

"You're not seeing things, Minister," Lily assured. Millicent looked to Remus for confirmation, and he nodded. Remus held a great amount of respect for Millicent Bagnold, partly because she was still well-liked by the wizarding population despite the circumstances, she fully supported the Order and kept their existence a secret from those who were less inclined, and she knew what he was and treated him no differently because of it.

"How'd you survive?" Millicent demanded, standing up and coming a bit closer.

Lily's smile turned into a smirk that held secrets. "_Magic._ But really, we came to tell you the truth about Sirius."

Millicent raised an eyebrow. "And what truth would that be?"

"Sirius wasn't our Secret Keeper. It was Peter Pettigrew. Peter," Remus felt a sour taste spread through his mouth as Lily spoke the name, "can be linked to more than just a few sabotaged missions in the Order." Her expression turned dark. "Particularly the ones concerning the McKinnons and the Prewett Brothers. We're more than certain that he cast the spell that killed the Muggles."

Millicent observed them for a very long, careful moment. "This changes things," she said finally. It was in that moment that Remus got a sense of how very _tired _Millicent looked. She wasn't old by any means, but her face had worry lines carved like canyons. Silver threaded through her dark hair. Purple bruises lingered under her eyes and her posture was stooped. In fact, every part of her seemed to sink down a little bit, like she was Atlas and she had shrugged off the world.

Millicent spoke again. "But it doesn't change much."

Fear was a flower seed planted in Remus' stomach, blooming in his throat and choking his words. He could only reap what he sowed.

Lily was looking at him.

Remus had to be logical about this. He had to think. Part of being a menace to society just for existing was being carefully controlled.

"What does it change?" He said lowly, when the flower in his throat had wilted and died.

"He gets a trial instead of a straight shot to Azkaban. Several eyewitnesses place Sirius Black at the scene with a wand to Peter Pettigrew's throat. Nearly the whole neighborhood saw him blast Pettigrew to bits. Now, even if Sirius were set up, he'd need a damn good lawyer to get him out of a charge for twelve counts of murder. Even if Peter were the one who cast that spell, we'd need proof. Someone who was at the scene and saw it, perhaps. Hell, Peter himself would do just fine if he was alive."

"Peter is an unregistered Animagus," Lily blurted out. "He's still alive. He has to be. He must have cut off his own finger, cast the spell, and transformed."

A brilliant spark of hope flickered in Millicent Bagnold's eyes. "Then we need to find Peter Pettigrew." Silence fell over the three of them. "He's a few floors down, if you wish to see him."

(&)(&)(&)

Remus walked into the room holding Sirius first and was promptly horrified. He had helped Sirius with a more than healthy share of post-Order mission injuries before, but even that hadn't prepared Remus for the sight before him.

Sirius was sitting on the floor and had a dirty bandage wrapped around his calf, blood saturating the fabric. His entire was body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his hair was greasy and matted, and the room stank of vomit. Cuts crisscrossed his face. His clothes were torn and ripped and stained with blood that might not have been his. His head lolled at an unnatural angle on his shoulders. It was impossible to tell that he was even alive, nonetheless _alert._

But alert he was. "Come to kill me, Remus?" Sirius said despairingly, a manic grin spread across his face. He was watching him through his eyelashes. "I'd welcome it, you know. It's my fault they died. I told them to use Peter and because it, our best friends and their child are dead."

Remus searched desperately for something to say and came up with nothing. He could only say his name.

"Sirius—"

"Don't say it, Moony. Don't you fucking dare say it's not my fault. Just let me die like a coward."

"Padfoot they're not _dead—"_

"I SAW THEM!"

Sirius shrieked, thrashing on the ground so violently it appeared as if he were under the Cruciatus. "_I SAW THEIR BODIES!"_

That's when Lily let out an audible sob, and Sirius' eyes finally fell on her. All the fight left him.

"I'm hallucinating," Sirius said flatly. Lily went to him and kneeled by his side, grabbing his hands in hers.

Remus fell into place beside them, gently pulling out his wand and charming new, clean bandages on Sirius' leg.

"You're not hallucinating," Remus said softly.

"We're alive, Sirius. All of us. James wanted to come down here and punch every Dementor and Ministry Official in the face to get you out." Lily smiled and her tears mixed with it. Remus felt his own, hot and persistent, trail down his cheeks.

A dreamy, disbelieving look suddenly took over Sirius' face. "Tell me then, Hallucination Lily and Remus, do you think I could still make the cover of _Witch Weekly?_"


	5. Chapter 5

**New chapter! It's a little short, but I have a lot of things to plan for the next chapter and didn't want anyone to wait forever for the next chapter. Plus I love James/Lily time. Reviews are appreciated! **

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Getting Harry to sleep without Lily was a task and a half for James, and he nearly collapsed onto the bed when Harry's eyes fluttered closed and stayed that way. Wilted, he stood and watched the slow, even rises and falls of his son's chest. The scar on Harry's forehead was less irritated now that the nurses at St. Mungo's had dealt with it, but no one knew how to get rid of it.

Dumbledore had guessed that it was an effect of Voldemort hitting Harry with the Killing Curse, and Dumbledore usually guessed correctly.

"You look positively knackered." Lily's voice came from the doorway and all the tension pent up in James' shoulders melted away. Before, when they were working for the Order, he felt like this all the time. Like his heart was a quaffle held in the arms of someone who had never played Quidditch before and was two seconds from launching it into a goal post. It only got worse when Lily was on a separate mission and everything was out of his control.

His anxiety tripled, quadrupled, quintupled when they found out about Harry. James was overjoyed about having a child, one of his very own that he could teach to play Quidditch and carry on the family name, but he was also terrified. A glance from Lily would have told him that she was, too.

So when he turned around to look at her, her fiery red hair falling limply over her shoulders and exhaustion glazing her living eyes, he smiled. "Trying to say something about my looks, Potter?" She came closer and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Lily snorted. "You've been looking a bit lackluster as of late." At James' look of mock indignation, she revised her statement. "I say this with absolute love."

James grinned. "Nice to know where I stand with you, love."

They fell into silence, both watching their son sleep in a bed that was far too large and not their own. It would be a little while before they could go back to their home, and for the time being, neither of them was sure if they actually wanted to.

James knew that Lily had just returned from the Ministry, and as bent as he was that he wasn't the one to go see Sirius himself, he wanted so badly to ask her how it went. His hopes were high that it went well, only because she didn't have a look of absolute devastation on her face. He knew what Lily looked like when she had something bad to tell him, and this was not it.

He opened his mouth but Lily beat him to it. "He's going to be given a trial."

A trial? A _trial? _James thought he was going to explode. He took one look at sleeping Harry and left the room, taking care not to stomp down the hall. Lily followed close after him.

They shut themselves in a room a little ways away. It was dusty and hardly used, the flooring chipped and wooden with matching chipped and wooden furniture. Everything seemed to come in various shades of gray and black and brown. A small bed was pushed against one wall, and when James sat down it released decades of dust. He coughed and waved away the dust cloud with his hand. Lily remained standing on the opposite room and he hated Peter right then, for everything. For nearly getting his entire family killed, for betraying Sirius, for forcing this distance between him and Lily when they needed each other the most.

"A trial?" James said aloud, fighting to keep his voice controlled. It was not Lily's fault. He was not going to shoot the messenger.

"Yes, James, a trial." James knew perfectly well that Lily would not hesitate to put him in his place if it was necessary.

"But he's _innocent_." James ran his hands through his hair repeatedly, wondering how long it would take for dark hair to start falling out in tufts.

"_We_ know that, but how many other people do? Merlin, James, dozens of people saw him try to curse Peter into the ground. Who beyond you four and me know that Peter is an unregistered Animagus?" Hardly anyone, and James knew that. There were so many things he _knew _yet he still felt like he knew nothing at all.

He clasped his hands together, resting them on his lips. He needed to think. He needed to control his temper. There was a way to clear Sirius' name, and he just needed to find it.

"What did the Minister for Magic say?" James asked quietly, anger quelled, the cogs turning in his head.

"To find Peter." Lily watched him carefully as his head shot up, looking for any signs that her husband might decide to charge off and look for Peter on his own. He was a bit hot headed that way. "It's our best shot to convince a jury of Sirius' innocence. Proving that Peter faked his death and pinned it all on Sirius coupled with the fact that Peter was our Secret Keeper, and he's dead in the water." Lily winced, unaccustomed to having to think of someone she once held in high respect in that manner.

"No one other than the Order knows we're alive," James added. "For all… _he_ knows, we're dead, Padfoot is getting thrown into Azkaban, and Moony is half mad with grief." James' voice grew thick, clogged up with sadness and the thought of what might've become of them. His family and the Marauders, they were almost synonymous. If someone had told him back in fourth or fifth year that after Hogwarts he would have been staging a man hunt for one of his best friends to prove the innocence of the another… well, he would have thought they were taking the piss out of him.

He couldn't bear to think of the Marauders as the tragedy they almost were. The tragedy they'd become.

"How was Padfoot?" James asked hesitantly. He genuinely, really wanted to know, but he also didn't. He wanted to go back to when things had been good. Happy.

Lily's face softened and she came closer to him, sitting beside him on the dusty bed.

"Not well. He's all bruised and cut and bloodied. Remus and I spoke to him and he thought he was hallucinating. Thinks we're dead and it's all his fault." She rubbed soothing circles on James' back as his head fell into his hands. "But he'll get better. You know he will." Lily's calm voice dropped to a murmur. "We all will."

"I should've gone," he mumbled, "I should've gone with you. I should've been the first to see him."

"Should'ves aren't going to do you any good right now. If it helps, Sirius asked us if we thought he could still model for _Witch Weekly_." Lily laughed softly. "The Minister said we can go see him tomorrow after hours. Maybe he'll believe us when we're all in front of him. I'd like to think that we could all do with some happiness." Pressing her forehead against his, Lily kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. James responded immediately and pulled her closer by the waist. Their lips fit together in a way that still managed to amaze James. Warm and breathless, he still marveled at the fact that it was _Lily_ making him warm and breathless. With her, he still felt like a nervous seventh year.

One look at the blush staining her cheeks and he knew it was mutual, and that he hadn't taken a hit in the head from a bludger and fallen into a very long coma.

When they finally pulled apart, they grinned at each other weakly. No matter what else went wrong, they would always be James and Lily. They would always have each other.

He sat up, straightening out his spine. He had a goal, now. Something to work toward. He didn't have to stay cooped up in a little cottage anymore, helpless and useless.

He, Lily, and Harry were going to see Sirius and then the remaining Marauders would decide what to do about Peter. The three of them put together could find him, James had no doubt. Peter was smarter than he was given credit for. They knew how Peter thought, they could predict his moves before he made them and catch him like the rat he is. Peter had been, after all, a Marauder. He was reading straight out of a book they had written together.

James' attention was diverted when he heard Harry's soft whimpers drift down the hall. His confidence wavered. For all they thought they knew Peter, they never saw his betrayal coming.

Maybe they hadn't known Peter at all. 


End file.
